The Boudicca Parchments

Chapter 44

“So who was this Simon, son of Giora — the famous one I mean?”

“They were sitting down drinking coffee. Daniel had decided that he needed a break from translating of the Aramaic marriage document, and Sarit took the chance to flesh out her knowledge of ancient Jewish history, continuing the odyssey that had began when she was caught in a suicide bomb explosion by a Palestinian terrorist and continued when she served in Sar-El and the Israel army, before being recruited into the Mossad and trained as a Kidon — a deadly assassin.

“Simon Bar Giora was one of the rival leaders of the Jewish uprising against the Roman’s that began in the year sixty six.”

“What do you mean rival leaders?”

“You have to understand, Sarit, that the Jewish struggle for freedom from Rome — just like the struggle of the ancient Britons — was riven by factionalism and rivalry.”

“Sort of like the Judean People’s Front and the People’s Front of Judea?”

She had said it with a cheeky grin on her face — a look that softened her and briefly replaced the hard, tough killing machine that he knew her to be with the giggly schoolgirl that she could have passed as, if such camouflage had been necessary. But Daniel simply nodded approvingly, confirming that there was more than an element of truth to her flippant rejoinder.

“Not much is known about his early life. The name Giora can mean a stranger or convert. It may not be his father’s name at all. Anyway he first became known round about the year 66 when he was a young soldier who fought against the Romans in what Josephus called the ‘Jewish war.’ It was actually the first full-scale war between the Jews and the Romans.”

Joseph ben Matityahu — as he was originally known — was a Jew who changed sides when he saw the writing on the wall. In the early stages of the Jewish rebellion against Rome, he had been trapped in a siege in the town of Yodfat, which fell to the Romans despite allegedly being defended by thousands of Jews. Josephus, according to his own account, suggested that they salvage their honour by committing mass suicide. But suicide was forbidden in Jewish law and so they drew lots and killed each other, leaving one last man… who just happened to be Josephus. He was taken prisoner, used by the Romans as an interpreter and ultimately came over to the roman side fully and given citizenship and a role as an official historian.

“And the second was the one with Bar Kochba,” said Sarit, determined to show that she was not completely ignorant of these matters.

“Technically that was the third. But anyway, from what little we know about Bar Giora, he was probably quite young at the time, but he proved himself to be a resourceful strategist and military commander. He attacked their flanks and concentrated his forces on capturing their beasts of burden. A bit like capturing undamaged enemy tanks these days and then using them against the other side.”

“Sounds like Arik Sharon,” said Sarit with another cheeky grin.

General Arik Sharon was a famous — if somewhat controversial — Israeli military commander who had distinguished himself in numerous battles, including turning the tide of the Yom Kippur War, which Israel was losing, by crossing the Suez Canal and cutting off the Egyptian Third Army, whilst threatening also to cut off their Second Army.

“That’s actually quite a good comparison,” said Daniel. “Anyway. The point is that despite Simon Bar Giora’s military prowess, the leaders of the Judean uprising were reluctant to promote him to a senior position. This was partly due to the fact that they were afraid of him, both because of his powers and his popularity, but also possibly because of his parentage. If he was the son of a convert, they may have been more sceptical of him.”

“I guess amongst some people in Israel, I’ll never be accepted.”

Daniel heard the pain in her voice and although he couldn’t really speak for others, he wanted to reassure her.

“As an Israeli, I’m sure you’ll be accepted.”

“But I didn’t even consider converting to Judaism. I’m still a Roman Catholic at heart, whatever my politics.”

“Yes, but you served in the Israel army. And to secular Israelis, that’s the important thing. Anyway there was another factor at work in the case of Bar Giora. The priestly authorities at the Temple were realistic enough to know that they could never defeat the Romans outright and they wanted to negotiate with them. Bar Giora didn’t give the impression that he was a man who wanted to negotiate.”

“The same divisions as Israeli politics today.”

Daniel smiled. He didn’t profess to be an expert on modern Israeli politics, but Sarit’s point jelled with what little knowledge he had on the subject.

“And there was yet another reason why they were against him. In addition to his hardline stance against the Romans he was also a bit of a social revolutionary. He robbed the rich Jews as well as attacking the Romans.”

“It sounds like he was the Robin Hood of his day.”

“Exactly. And you have to remember that the Sadducee priests — or Tzadokim — were the aristocrats of Judean society. They were effectively the wealthy class. So by attacking the rich, he was attacking their constituency.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t kill him.”

“Oh, they tried. In fact for a while, he had to hide out in the mountain fortress at Masada with the zealots.”

“So he was part of the mass suicide?”

The Masada legend was writ large into Jewish national history. But the story was a lot more complicated that most people believed.

“He wasn’t there at the final siege. You see the man who was really out for his blood was the High Priest at the Temple: Ananus ben Ananus. But then Ananus — or Hanan in Hebrew — was deposed soon after that. Then later Hanan was killed by the zealots who hated the Sadducees because they thought of them as traitors and collaborators with the Romans. In fact he may have been killed by Edomites who were Gentile allies of the zealots.”

“So what then?” asked Sarit. “Bar Giora joined the zealots?”

“Well, sort of.”

“What do you mean ‘sort of’?”

“Well he came down from Masada and joined the fray, staging raids, robbing the wealthy and even killing them — and his social agenda of freeing the slaves and giving financial rewards struck a chord with the underclass.”

“So now he’s the Lenin of Judea.”

“You could say that. And by this stage, he was building up a huge following. But his strength was also his weakness. According to Josephus he had 40,000 civilian followers in addition to his soldiers and the other zealots — like John of Giscala — were beginning to get worried about him.”

“But what was their ideology?”

“Good question. If anything it was closer to his than to the Sadducee priests. They were against collaboration with the Romans — or even compromise — just like Bar Giora. They opposed luxurious living, just like Bar Giora. Some people have even described them as ascetics, although that may be an exaggeration. But ideologically there was nothing to separate Bar Giora from John of Giscaala, as far as we know. But as ever, with ideological movements, there’s always a personal element. It was the cult of personality. It was less like Stalin and Trotsky, and more like Hitler and Ernst Roehm — ”

“That’s a horrible analogy!” Sarit snapped. She had heard enough of this from Anti-Semites, without having to hear it from a Jew.

“Don’t take it literally Sarit, but you have to remember that war always was an ugly business. And there are always personal rivalries. Anyway Bar Giora was considered such a threat to John of Giscala that John’s men sat a trap for him.”

“What trap?”

“Well they knew that militarily Bar Giora was too savvy to beat in a pitched battle, so they lured him into an ambush and captured his wife. They tried to use her as a bargaining chip to get him to lay down his weapons and stop fighting, but instead, he went berserk.”

“In what way?”

“Well he raided Jerusalem — holding the ordinary population responsible for what their leaders had done and he pretty much went on the rampage. When his men caught those who tried to flee, they either killed them or tortured them. In some cases, he cut off their hands and sent them back, telling them to warn the Jerusalem authorities that he’d do the same to everyone in the city unless they let his wife go.”

“And did they?”

“Yep! They were shitting in their pants at what he was doing, because although he may have seemed like a madman, he had a lot of popular support from the poorer classes and the freed slaves.”

“So now he’s what, Spartacus?”

“Robin Hood. Lenin. Mao Tse-Tung. Spartacus. He was all of those and more!”

“So what happened?”

“What happened is they let her go, just like he demanded. At least that’s the first thing that happened. But like all these stories, it can never really have a happy ending.”

“The beginning and middle don’t seem to happy either,” Sarit remarked dryly.

“No and it continued in pretty much the same vein. He couldn’t camp inside the walls of Jerusalem, because that would have made him vulnerable to John’s forces. But he was being squeezed also by the Roman advance. And even with his large force, he didn’t dare take on the disciplined Roman army in a pitched battle. So he camped just outside the city walls and attacked those in Jerusalem that he considered to be supporters of John of Giscala.”

“It sounds like he spent more time fighting against rivals on his own side than he did fighting against the Romans.”

“To a large extent that’s true. And it was ultimately his undoing — his and Johns. Because if Bar Giora was a terrorist, John of Giscala was a tyrant and many of those in Jerusalem were tired of John’s despotic ways and saw Bar Giora as just the revolutionary ruler to get rid of him. This was also true of some of the official priestly authorities that John had overthrown. In fact, in many ways Bar Giora had become a myth of almost Messianic proportions. And this was after the time of Jesus, but before Christianity had grown into a powerful force. So they let him into the city and his men went to war with John’s men.”

“This really is beginning to sound like Monty Python!”

“Except that nobody was laughing — ”

“Or looking on the bright side of life,” Sarit interrupted with a cheeky grin.

“There wasn’t much of a bright side to look on. The city became like Belfast at the height of the troubles, or Beirut during the wars there between Maronites and Muslims. Battles lines drawn and separated by heavily-manned barricades and no-go areas. Bar Giora controlled the upper parts of the city and some of the lower parts, but the bulk of the lower parts and the Temple and its courtyard were still under the control of John. Meanwhile the Romans, under Titus, were closing in and by year 70, they had put the city under siege.”

“And did Bar Giora and John make peace?”

“You’d think so wouldn’t you?”

“But did they?” asked Sarit impatiently.

“Like hell they did. Even though it was the sabbatical year, when they didn’t grow any grain and even with the city besieged, so the harvest couldn’t reach them, they seemed more concerned with attacking each other’s grain stores than with conserving food and fighting the Romans.”

“God, what arse holes!

“I couldn’t have put it better.”

“No wonder they lost!”

“Wait, it gets better. Because another faction broke away and seized the Temple itself.”

“Ye Gods!”

“So now you had three Jewish factions all fighting each other when they should have been fighting the Romans. Of course the Roman’s had a de facto motto: Divide et impera. And while the Romans were doing that, Bar Giora was basking in his near messianic reputation and minting his own coins. Meanwhile his and John’s civilian supporters were staring to abandon them and even their soldiers were deserting, as they realized — what their leaders had failed to realize — that the Romans were closing in. Then — finally — the feuding rivals did join forces, but by then it was too late. Titus had breached the city walls and the belatedly united factions were now fighting for their lives.”

“And we know what happened then,” said Sarit sadly, almost as if she hoped that this time, upon the retelling, history would have a different ending.

“But even then, it wasn’t over Sarit. They put up quite a brave resistance, considering how far they’d let things slide. But pretty soon the city fell and the temple was destroyed.”

“ ‘There shall not be left one stone upon another, that shall not be thrown down,’ ” said Sarit, to herself, quoting Jesus’s prophecy as she stared into some imaginary point in the distance.

“Exactly.”

Listening to this account had proved to be a bit of a strain for Sarit. She went over to the window and looked out.

“Wouldn’t it be poignant if they’d been killed at the Temple, making their last stand shoulder to shoulder, like brothers?”

“It would have been. But that’s not quite the way it happened — although Bar Giora did effectively meet his fate on the Temple Mount. What actually happened is that Bar Giora and a small band of followers, aided by stonecutters, tried to dig their way out to freedom. But they ran out of food and couldn’t make it — or at least, that’s the way Josephus tells it.”

“I gather you don’t like Josephus?”

“He was a traitor and his stories are self-serving. In his account of the mass suicide at Masada, he copied the events of his own treachery at Yodfat. Anyway, realizing that all was lost Bar Giora dressed up in a King’s robes and climbed out of the ground at the spot where the Temple’s innermost chamber — the Holy of Holies — once stood.”

“A grand entrance.”

“Grand, but futile. For a moment the Romans were terrified. Then they gathered their wits and grabbed him and from then on it was the familiar pattern like most of the leaders who challenged Rome.”

“Crucifixion?”

“Actually no. They took him back to Rome in chains, paraded him through the city and then threw him to his death from the Tarpeian Rock — that’s a cliff-face of the Capitoline Hill in Rome.”

“Oh God!”

Daniel’s head spun round to look at Sarit, wondering what it was in his words that had provoked such a reaction. But he quickly realized that it was not his words that had prompted her reply. She was looking out the window.”

“What is it?”

“Daniel, what have you done?”

“What is it?”

She turned round to look at him, her face ashen white.

“The police are outside.”